


Better not be a dream

by mysticmjolnir (empressmaude)



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 01:36:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4900534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empressmaude/pseuds/mysticmjolnir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The citizens of Asgard are very, very glad to see their King home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better not be a dream

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for [thorkizilla](http://thorkizilla.tumblr.com)

“Welcome home, my King,” says Heimdall. “It is…very good to to see you again.” The number of times the Guardian of the Bifrost has ever truly expressed an emotion can be counted on one hand, and Thor is surprised to find that today, strangely, another finger can be added. Heimdall’s relief to see Thor home is quiet, but obvious, and Thor wonders what could have alarmed his friend so much but not led him to summon the King home. His battles on Midgard were important, but nothing that his mortal friends could not have handled without his presence if danger threatened Asgard.

“It is good to see you too,” says Thor slowly. “Heimdall, is something the matter.”

Heimdall looks almost…helpless, and Thor’s concern grows. He reaches for Mjolnir, holding her by his side and feeling comforted by the weight and feel of her. “Heimdall. Tell me now.”

“Thor!” he hears a voice call from behind him, and turns to see Fandral running along the bridge to meet him. “Thor, before you get to the palace, you must know-”

“Know what?” demands Thor, striding forward and looming over his friend. Fandral does not look injured or battleworn – and the Bifrost is fine, something must be amiss within Asgard, and most likely- “Is it Loki?”

Fandral gapes with astonishment, then nods. “Yes, Thor, he’s-” But Thor has no patience for any more delay, and flings Mjolnir into the air, following her with a great leap and flying directly towards his apartments. He lands heavily on the balcony, looking around frantically. His brother must be here, must be safe, or else-

“Thor?” he hears Loki say, and his heart nearly stops. His brother’s voice, usually mellifluous, sounds like someone has taken a sledgehammer to his silver vocal chords. Thor follows the dreadful sound at a run, and stops in the doorway, shocked, but in truth relieved, at what he finds.

Loki, who he left in the best of health and regent of Asgard (it’s fine, Loki has had the reins of ruling several times before and very rarely succumbs to anything worse than minor mischievousness), is huddled under a pile of blankets, looking like he has made a personal fortress of them. The room is untidy, but it is nothing compared to the bed, which is covered with tissues, clothes and small bottles that Thor recognises as the containers for his mother’s healing potions.

His brother looks wretched, sweaty and with an unhealthy flush, long hair frizzy in the way Thor knows Loki despises and spends a great deal of effort combating, and plastered to the side of his face. The covers are pulled to Loki’s chest, so he cannot see much else of him. Strangely, despite the bedclothes being dark green, Thor is certain he can see a splash of vivid red peeking out from beneath Loki.

“Thor, I’m dying,” Loki announces fatalistically, closing his eyes and slumping against the pillows. Thor holds back his laughter, and sets Mjolnir on her plinth before crossing over to the bed. “Make sure the statue actually looks like me, the one Odin used for Bor was terrible.”

Thor tries not to wonder how his brother-husband might know what their grandfather actually looked like, and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to brush his hand down Loki’s cheek. Loki’s skin is burning, not hot enough for Thor to be truly worried, but he knows what is wrong now. “You are not dying,” he promises. “You have a cold.”

“A cold _you_ gave me,” hisses Loki, the husk of his sore throat stealing the venom from his tone. It’s true – Thor was recovering from small case of the sniffles before the call from the Avengers came, and he must have passed it onto Loki before he left. Thor feels a little bad for being the accidental source of Loki’s misery, but it was not actually his fault, and Loki was a fairly dire nursemaid during Thor’s sickness, so it serves him right to have caught the cold in turn.

Thor begins to clear away the detritus on their bed, shoving everything useless into a pile to be dealt with later, while Loki watches balefully. “How were the mortals?” asks Loki bitterly. “Did any of them perish? Please tell me at least that Stark died horribly and in pain.”

“They all survived the battle, although Iron Man did injure his foot,” says Thor, fetching a fresh potion from a tray across the room, clearly brought by some frightened servant, and diluting it into a cup of water. “They send their regards.”

Loki snorts derisively. “You should let them fight their own battles,” he says. “Coddling them with your help makes them even weaker and more worthless.”

“Yes love,” says Thor calmly, bringing Loki his medicine and watching him drink it down. He wonders how bad it must have been, to disquiet even Heimdall, but decides to leave inquiries until later, when Loki is resting properly. Loki finishes the potion with a cough, and throws the cup weakly at Thor’s head. Thor catches it and set it aside. “Now go to sleep.”

“You had better not be a dream,” mutters Loki, closing his eyes and wriggling into a more comfortable position. He drags at the red fabric to wrap it further around him, and Thor realises it is his own spare cloak.

He had meant to leave Loki to rest, but he no longer has the heart to go. While Loki grumbles and squirms unhappily, Thor pulls off his armour and carefully slides under the stifling covers. Loki gasps and opens his eyes at the sudden feel of his brother beside him, then flings himself on top of Thor like a feeble, sweaty blanket. He clings as tightly as his weakened body allows, burrowing his face into Thor’s neck and locking his leg around Thor’s hip.

Thor cradles Loki in turn, wrapping both arms around his brother and petting his damp hair lovingly. “I’m here now,” he croons softly as Loki makes muffled whimpers against his skin. “I’ll not leave you again, I promise.”

Loki mumbles something about the annihilation of Midgard, but Thor decides to generously ignore him for now. Eventually, the medicine and the comfort of Thor’s embrace sends Loki into a peaceful slumber, and Thor soon follows him, unpleasantly hot but unable to think of anywhere he would rather be.


End file.
